


Under Heaven

by new_kate



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2010-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/new_kate/pseuds/new_kate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kougaiji was still quite young, he met a god.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> My help_haiti entry for lovely mainekosama with many thanks for her generous donation! Betaed by devikun. Also lots of love and credit to louiselux and scribblemoose. Title rather fandom-inappropriately from Eccl 3:1 because, well, uh, that would be an ecumenical matter /Father Jack voice.

 

**   
**

When Kougaiji was still quite young, he met a god.

The god was alone. He was sitting under a cherry tree on a slope of a hill, half-hidden by the wild grass. He was staring at the sky through the bare black branches, mindlessly picking at the healing scabs on his chest where his coat fell open.

Kougaiji had never seen a kami before, and if questioned he wouldn't be able to tell why he was so certain that this man came from Heaven. But there was no doubt in his heart. He knew he was in the presence of something divine, just as surely as he knew his own name.

As he stood and stared, the god lazily raised one long arm and waved at him.

"Don't be scared, kid," he said. "I won't bite."

"I'm not a kid," Kougaiji said and started walking towards him, awfully self-conscious about every step he took. The last growing spurt had turned his body into an awkward collection of sharp angles and uncoordinated gangly limbs. He hated being like this, and never as much as at this moment. The god had black spiky hair, beautiful wide mouth and very blue eyes. This close Kougaiji could see the mark of kami on his forehead and a few tiny laughter lines etched into his skin, an odd, warm accent to his ageless face.

"I'm not a kid. I'm the first-born son of the king, and you're in my domain," he said as gruffly as he could, praying his voice won't betray him and break into a squeak. It had been doing that a lot lately.

"Well, I thank you for your hospitality, highness," the god said - mocking him, of course, but kindly enough. "Aren't you a long way from the palace?"

Kougaiji shrugged and fiddled with his hands a little, and then knelt opposite the kami on the scratchy winter grass.

"The trees won't bloom for months yet," he said, watching the man cautiously, through lowered eyelashes.

"Yeah, well, I didn't come here to watch the petals."

"I guess they're much prettier in Heaven. I guess everything is," Kougaiji said, and blushed because he sounded like such a girl.

"Not really, no," the man said with a soft smile which somehow made Kougaiji blush harder.

"Did it hurt?" he asked to change the subject.

"Well, aren't you an early bloomer? No, I didn't actually fall from Heaven," the man said. "I walked."

"Um, sure," said Kougaiji, utterly confused. "I was asking about those."

The wounds on the man's torso were whip marks. He'd seen enough on the palace servants to recognise them unmistakably. He held his breath, reached out, quietly amazed by his own boldness, and carefully touched a puffy red edge of a scab with a tip of his talon.

The kami's body was radiating Chi, generously and carelessly, like sun pouring out light and heat. It made Kougaiji's palm itch and hum just from the proximity; he couldn't even imagine what it would feel like, to press his open hands against this man's glowing skin.

"That hurt, yes," the man said. "We feel pain, just like you do. Wouldn't be much of a punishment if we couldn't feel it, would it now."

Kougaiji wanted to try to heal him, but it would be ridiculously presumptuous to offer help to a god. What could he do, with all his powers stretched to a limit, that a kami couldn't accomplish with a passing thought?

"Who'd do this to you?" he muttered. "How could something like this happen in Heaven?"

"Heaven is just a place," kami shrugged. "People make it what it is."

"But it's Heaven!"

"I bet that's what your subjects think about the royal palace," said kami. "But it's the palace! Everything is sunshine and butterflies there, all the royals are happy like pigs in the mud."

"We're not," Kougaiji said sullenly. It was treason to speak of this to outsider, but he couldn't lie to a kami. "Father is cruel to Mother and Father's mistress is an evil whore. She hits my sister, and she dallies with the palace guards, and he says she'll poison Mother's food if I tell anyone. Father wouldn't believe me anyway. He doesn't care about us. He says it's Mother's fault I'm weak."

"Thinking of running away?" kami asked, frowning. It made the mark of divinity on his forehead crinkle in the cutest way. "Look, kid, it's pretty dangerous out here..."

"Of course not! I can't leave Mother and Sister alone with them."

"Well then, let me tell you something," the man said. "A piece of divine wisdom, if you like. You're not weak."

"I am," Kougaiji said, because it was true, no matter how deeply it hurt to admit. "If I wasn't, I would protect them."

"Listen. Up in Heaven there is a dark room. In it there is a child, covered in battle wounds, all alone, catching a moment of rest before he has to head out back into the fight. His whole life is war, pain and loneliness. Everybody knows of it. Nobody cares. Hundreds of gods, eternal, wise and powerful, stand aside and let this go on. You, kid, you stand up for your mom and sis, you care about them. That makes you stronger than all the armies of Heaven."

"But I can't do anything! I just get slapped and yelled at and nothing changes."

The god turned his face upwards, toward the sunlight, and scratched at the black ring of bruises on his wrist.

"Yeah," he said. "Well. If just one person speaks up, it's better than nothing. Maybe just knowing someone cares is enough. Gotta do what you can, you know."

They sat together in silence. Kougaiji wanted to close his eyes, clear his mind and memorise this moment, everything. Not just every line of kami's face and body and every word the god had said to him, but everything. The way grassy ground was uneven and hard under his knees, the way the breeze tickled the backs of his ears, every sound the birds made in the leafless branches above them. He knew this was going to be the most important thing to happen in his whole life. He needed to remember everything about it.

But he couldn't steady himself enough to focus. His whole body was buzzing with some unfamiliar, unsettling thrill, and all he could do was stare at the man and shiver with need for something he couldn't name, something far beyond his experience and knowledge.

"Have you come to our world to take a mortal lover?" he asked, remembering old stories.

"Haven't thought about it," said kami. "Why? You know any hot willing babes nearby?"

"Um," said Kougaiji and blushed like he'd never blushed before, till his ears hurt from throbbing. The god looked at him, raised an eyebrow and burst into hearty laughter.

"Oh, forget it, I didn't really want to," Kougaiji said as regally as he could. It was hard, because he was kind of struggling not to cry. He could probably open the ground under his feet with a good burst of magic and let it swallow him and spare him this embarrassment.

"Oh, don't be like that, I'm honoured by your offer, Highness," the god said, still giggling.

"Is it because I'm a youkai? Is that why you don't want me? Or is it because I'm a man?"

"It's because you're not a man yet. Maybe in a few years, huh?"

He reached out and cupped Kougaiji's chin in one warm, big hand. It was terrifying and blissful at the same time; his power was flooding Kougaiji's chakras, mixing with his Chi, and his lips were so close, and his eyes were so, so blue and bright.

"You're worth the wait," he said. "Trust me, you'll grow up very beautiful."

Kougaiji barely slept that night. He stared into the dark ceiling over his bed, imagining the world above and the god he'd met, asleep in his Heavenly abode. He muttered the name the god had told him – Kenren, Ken-ren – but it didn't sound right in his voice, not like it sounded when the kami had said it. He wanted to touch himself, imagining Kenren kissing him, taking him in his arms, but doing that felt almost like blasphemy.

He thought he'd remember that day forever. But by the time he was seventeen, five hundred and four years later, only a faintest memory remained. He didn't even believe any longer that he really had met a god and it wasn't just a childhood fantasy.

Five hundred and four years and some days later he stood on a forest path, staring into the face of the man before him, and couldn't say a word, couldn't even draw a full breath. The man's big, rough hand was cupping Kougaiji's chin, and his blue eyes were still wild from the battle, and yet very gentle and full of worry.

"Are you hurt, kid?" the man was asking. "Look at me. Did they hurt you?"

The man was a youkai in his mid-twenties, a peasant from the eastern lands, judging by his broad accent. He was covered in grime and blood and his clothes were poor and tattered. There was nothing about him that should have made the heart of the Prince stutter like this.

The bandits were all dead, slain by this stranger in one whirlwind attack. Kougaiji hadn't been worried about this ambush – it was nothing he couldn't have handled himself. But this sort of bravery surely merited a reward, and he was going to offer one, as soon as he gathered his wits and stopped staring.

"Damn it, you're in shock, aren't you? Shit, they scared you good. It's all right, kid, you're all right now. I'll see you home safe. I won't let anyone hurt you."

Kougaiji didn't even know what it was – just something about the shape of the man's mouth, maybe, something about the colour of his eyes. Something fleeting, barely there, some vague resemblance to a memory, or a dream.

The man's hands landed on his shoulders, shook him gently, trying to bring him out of his reverie. The closeness of the man's big, heavily built body was doing odd woozy things to Kougaiji's heart, brain and stomach, and it was affecting other parts of his body in much more visceral way.

He pulled free and stepped back, trying to salvage some dignity and propriety.

"I'm not a kid," he said. "I'm Prince Kougaiji. You owe me your allegiance."

The man rocked back and after a moment's thought went down on one knee.

"Um, sorry," he said. "Wasn't very respectful, was I? Shit. No hard feelings, eh, Highness?"

"And I owe you a debt of gratitude," Kougaiji said. The man's dark head was bowed down and just level with – this wasn't good for his composure. "Rise, and honour me to know your name."

"Yeah, I'd rather not," the man said, getting up and carefully brushing road dust off his already filthy trousers. "Travelling incognito, like. Got some people after me, so I'm keeping low profile."

This kind of insolence was really quite unacceptable, downright insulting to his title, and had to be punished immediately. Kougaiji tried to frown. The man was looking down on him from his considerable height, grinning warmly.

"Come on, I'll walk you home," he said. "These woods are pretty dangerous."

"I don't need a babysitter."

"Sure you don't. But for my peace of mind, just to the edge of the forest. Then I'll be on my merry way, all right?"

"I am, however, in need of a bodyguard," Kougaiji said quickly. The thought of this man turning around and disappearing from his life forever was completely intolerable. "I offer this position to you. You've already proven yourself most skilful and brave warrior, and..."

"Nah," the man said. "Thanks, of course, but no. You don't know me, who I am, what I've done. Trust me, you don't want me."

"I shall be the judge of that," said Kougaiji with great authority, and nearly groaned out loud when his brain caught up with his mouth. "I mean - I urge you to reconsider. You may keep the secrets of your past. You don't need to reveal your name, we can give you a new one. I need someone I can trust."

"And why d'you think that's me?" the man said. There was no mockery or challenge in his voice. Hopefulness, maybe.

"I know it's you," Kougaiji said, past caring what he sounded like. "In my heart, I know."

It wasn't the first time Gyokumen had sent him out to do her dirty work, dangling the promise of his mother's salvation before him. He went obediently as always, even knowing she'd probably betray him in the end. Like a stupid mule reaching for carrot on a stick, he went and did whatever she asked. He couldn't choose otherwise.

It wasn't the first time he stood in this room, peering into the dead stone, trying to see Mother's face behind the still mask. Asking himself how far he would go before the end. Would there be anything left of his honour, of his self. Would she even recognise him if he brought her back.

But it was the first time Dokugakuji joined him there, walking in uninvited, without asking permission.

He crouched on the floor by Kougaiji's feet and sat there, motionless, effortlessly holding the whole bulk of his body balanced and still. He'd always had remarkable mastery of his every muscle. When he trained in the courtyard Kougaiji liked to watch as his swordsman would freeze in a difficult stance for long minutes, the tip of his sword not wavering by a hair's width, and then burst into a flurry of moves and trusts, agile, fast, flawless.

He'd cleaned up after their journey. There was no road dust on his naked back, no splashes of the enemies' blood. In the dim light his skin looked paler, and the old healed scars were barely visible, swallowed by the shadows in the dips of his muscles. Kougaiji imagined running his hand over the span on Dokugakuji's broad shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin and his chi, and resting his palm on the nape of the man's neck, where the hair was short and soft, not spiked stiffly in Dokugakuji's usual style.

"I come here sometimes," Dokugakuji said. "That's all right, yeah?"

"Of course."

"She reminds me of my mom a bit."

Kougaiji knew that the peasant woman from the eastern lands couldn't have looked anything like a youkai Queen. But he also knew that for every child their mother is the most beautiful, the most powerful creature in the world, and he knew that not everyone, not in each lifetime gets the chance to leave behind all childish things.

"She was like this in the end," Dokugakuji said. "Trapped by grief and pain, till her heart turned to stone. Till she couldn't hear me anymore."

From where he stood Kougaiji couldn't see his face – turned away, hidden in the shadows. He slowly reached out and touched Dokugakuji's shoulder, mindful of his talons. The man didn't react, not a flinch, as if he hadn't noticed.

"She wasn't always – I remember how she was. She was so brave. Full of love," he carried on. "After what dad did to her, she still took his kid in. Didn't care that he was bad luck. He was a living soul, and he was my brother. She was good to him, too, at the beginning. He wouldn't remember now."

He sighed. His head slumped down a little, but he held his shoulders still, not dislodging Kougaiji's palm.

"I thought I could save her. She was slipping away, but I thought I could still do something. I thought I'd do anything. Anything at all. But when it came to it, I knew that saving this shell she'd become meant betraying all she used to be. The mom I'd remembered wouldn't let me do that. I knew what she'd want me to do."

"Dokugakuji... What are you saying?"

The man's broad hand covered Kougaiji's for one brief moment, and then he rose swiftly and smiled.

"I'm saying I was young, dumb and alone. What happened then won't happen here. Hey, Kou, you know, it's past drunk o'clock and we're still sober. Let's go."

They were in Dokugakuji's room, steadily working their way through the man's stash of cheep beer.

"When we rescue my mother," Kougaiji said, licking metallic-tasting foam off his lips. "When you meet her, I'll tell her everything about you, and she'll love you. She'll love you like her own son. You'll see. You'll have a family again."

"You're so drunk," Dokugakuji said affectionately.

"I am not!"

"Kou, I'm a grown man. I don't need another mom at this point."

"Everyone needs a family."

"That's true."

He took another long swig and glanced at Kougaiji over his beer can. He didn't look tipsy yet, though his cheeks were a little flushed. It was warm in the room; Kougaiji could see sweat beading on Dokugakuji's naked chest, a small drop sliding down from the dip between his collarbones.

"When we first met," he said, and Kougaiji lowered his drink, listening intently, holding his breath. "When I first saw you, you reminded me of my little brother."

"Oh," Kougaiji said, suddenly winded like all air had been knocked out of his lungs.

"You're about the same age, and you have the same colour hair, and the eyes – well, his are different colour, but – and I thought if I could look after you, if I don't fail you like I failed him..."

"Oh."

"But that faded within weeks. I know now you're nothing alike, not really. And I know Gojyo's fine. He was always a tough little runt, he's fine. Probably shacked up with some doe-eyed beauty who cooks him dinners and nags at him to take out the garbage. He'd have a family of his own now, a good, quiet life. You – you're my prince. I don't look after you. I fight by your side. Things you do, the way you care about your people, the strength you have – it's nothing like I've ever known. I never thought I'd get to be near someone who shines like you do. Never thought I'd be a part of something like this."

"Good," Kougaiji said, a rush of relief mixing with alcohol in his blood. "Good. Dokugakuji, you've been with me for some years now, and although you're officially my retainer, I see you as a friend, a most trusted companion, a brother in arms. No, not a brother! A close friend. And I want... I always wanted..."

He put both hands on Dokugakuji's shoulders and quickly placed a respectful, chaste kiss on the man's wide mouth.

When he pulled back his swordsman was staring at him with unblinking, darkened eyes.

"If that's not what you want, I apologise and I shall never again make any improper advances, I swear to you," Kougaiji told him. "Or if you'd like a longer courtship..."

"No, Kou, I want," Dokugakuji scooted forward on his knees and braced his arms on the bed between them, leaning closer. This, now, was somehow more of a gesture of supplication and reverence than any time Dokugakuji had knelt before him. "You know, I'm yours. My sword, my blood, my life, whatever you want, all yours. If I can give you this, too – yeah. Yeah, I want to. What do you want me to do? Tell me what to do, Kou, anything."

"I... I was hoping you'd guide us through it. Being older and more wordly..."

Dokugakuji frowned at him in confusion, drawing back slightly.

"I'm sorry that I'm not as skilled a lover as you'd have every reason to expect of a Prince," Kougaiji sighed. It was a confession he'd dreaded for years, even as he'd fantasised about the possibility of all of this really happening. "Or, indeed, as skilled a lover as you deserve. My parents were supposed to have hired courtesans to educate me when I came of age, but, as you know..."

"Oh, Kou," Dokugakuji said and pulled him into a kiss.

It wasn't what he expected – really not at all skilled or wordly. Their noses bumped together painfully, getting in the way, and their fangs clashed when they tried to get closer; it was odd and confusing, and he felt a little disoriented trying to map this new territory with just his lips and tongue. His eyes slid closed and he couldn't force them open again, overwhelmed by too many sensations twisted together. Kougaiji already knew the unique faint scent of Dokugakuji's skin, had inhaled it many times as they brushed past each other, fought together, slept side by side near a fading campfire. Now he was tasting it, had it rolling on his tongue, drank huge gulps of it right from Dokugakuji's mouth. They were both so clumsy, constantly failing to anticipate each other's moves, even though they always did it so easily and naturally in battle. Their lips were mashing together in a wet, sliding mess, and he wasn't sure it was quite appropriate to do what he was doing with his tongue, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He tasted a hint of blood – someone's lip got nicked on someone's fangs – and he couldn't tell which of them was hurt, and couldn't care about that either. Awkward and graceless as this was, it felt divine.

Dokugakuji's sword-callused hands hovered at his sides, barely brushing his skin, and Kougaiji flung himself against the man's broad chest, and wound his arms around his strong neck, pulling him in tighter and tighter.

"Get me naked," he whispered against Dokugakuji's lips between kisses. "Get yourself naked."

Dokugakuji growled into his ear and tugged on their clothes without paying too much thought to fastenings, almost ripping them off. Kougaiji heard seams popping as cloth gave way, and could only laugh, carefree like a child, except he'd never felt this carefree and happy in all his childhood.

They fell on the bed, still kissing even as they brought their naked bodies together, letting skin touch skin, legs tangling, hips brushing; he felt Dokugakuji's hardness rub against his own and almost cried out from the sudden sharp thrill of it. He helped Dokugakuji roll them around and sprawled on his back, spreading his legs open, shivering in anticipation of pain and new, as yet untasted pleasures. Dokugakuji braced over him on his elbows and started kissing a hot wet trail down his neck, across his chest.

"Do it, please," Kougaiji panted, straining towards him. Dokugakuji's cock was hard and hot against him, sliding so close to the entrance to his body, painting sticky lines on the skin of his inner thighs, and that was maddeningly pleasant and not enough.

"Want to get you so hot," Dokugakuji murmured, lapping at his nipple. "Want you to love it."

His hand covered Kougaiji's cock and stroked once, firmly, just as he closed his lips over that nipple, already tingling from his kisses, and gave it a flick with a tip of his tongue. And that was as much as Kougaiji could take.

He was only vaguely aware that he was arching off the bed and screaming without any restraint, making a shameless spectacle of himself. He should've been ashamed, he was pretty certain of that – this was not the behaviour of a thoughtful lover. But all that was swallowed by a white rush of hot mindless bliss that flooded his body, making him weightless and free, fresh as a newborn, happy, so happy.

Dokugakuji was smiling down at him, stroking his face, and Kougaiji decided not to apologise for his mishap. He reached down, ignoring wet mess on his chest and stomach, wrapped his hand around Dokugakuji's thick cock and tried to guide it between his legs.

"I want you so much," he confessed, squirming into position. Dokugakuji was shuddering against him, moaning and fucking into his fist in tight ragged thrusts, and was completely unhelpful, too big and heavy to be easily manoeuvred. But Kougaiji loved that, he loved everything about this moment. "I feel like I wanted you since before I met you."

Dokugakuji made a strangled sound against his shoulder; his cock got even harder, pulsing and twitching in Kougaiji's palm. Kougaiji squeezed it tighter without thinking, and suddenly Dokugakuji was coming, thick spurts of come painting Kougaiji's wrist and stomach.

"Oh, fuck, Kou," he mumbled and collapsed on top of him. Relaxed like that, stretched out bonelessly like an enormous cat, he didn't even feel that heavy. Kougaiji spread his hands over the generous expanse of Dokugakuji's back, shifted his hips to better cradle the man's thick thighs between his legs, and let himself melt into the pillows and the warmth of the perfect body above him.

"Well, we did that all wrong," he noted after a while. Dokugakuji giggled against him, gleefully, like a little girl. Kougaiji gave him a half-hearted swat on the ear and added: "You're much less wordly than I had thought."

"Yeah. I've been with one woman, but that had been – that was never for me. Anyway, right or wrong, this right now was fucking brilliant."

"Obviously, yes. But there are techniques, the proper ways, so much to master. I'll get some books from the palace library tomorrow. We'll learn."

Kougaiji tugged him a little closer, enjoying the slide of their bodies together. All the come and sweat cooling between them should have been a little disgusting, but he liked the squelchy wetness there, a reminder of their shared pleasure.

"You know, when we first met, you reminded me of someone too," he said.

"Yeah? Who?"

"Um," Kougaiji said sheepishly, unable to make himself say it out loud: I thought, in that moment, you were something out of this world. Something perfect, of limitless power and beauty, godlike. "I don't remember, actually."

Kougaiji watched as Yaone cleaned and stitched Dokugakuji's wound, applied the salve and bandaged it up tightly. His swordsman never flinched, barely let his breath hitch from pain as she worked on him.

"Keep that arm raised," she told him. Her small hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment; then she brushed her fingertips along his smiling lips, quickly gathered her supplies and hurried over to Sanzo's party to help Hakkai treat his wounded.

Dokugakuji shifted sideways and put his bandaged arm in Kougaiji's lap.

"Doctor's orders," he said with a wink.

They sat in the steaming ruins, pressed close together, watching Hakkai and Yaone as they fussed over Gojyo's mangled hand. He was bearing their ministrations stoically, just like his brother, all the time staring intently at Yaone's cleavage.

It was oddly fascinating to look at his face and see signs of their shared blood: similar lines forming slightly different features, same smile on different lips, different eyes in familiar face. Sometimes Kougaiji wondered what Dokugakuji's children would look like. How strange and wonderful it would be to see his likeness repeated and reflected in different ways, changed and new every time: little faces with just a vague hints of family resemblance, or perhaps tiny spitting images of his swordsman, a promise that some part of Dokugakuji's blood and spirit would stay in this world forever, defying death, rebirth, time itself.

"Yaone has grown very fond of you," he said.

"Yeah, I'm very fond of her right back."

"You must realise that I can't take you as my mate," he said. They had to have this conversation eventually, and now was as good a time as any.

"Oh, can't you? Then I must be imagining my asshole stinging like hell because you wouldn't stop taking me as your mate last night."

"Well, we were going into battle, that could have been the last time... "

"Yeah, I'm not really complaining."

"I mean to say that I can't marry you. And now that the war is over, you deserve a life of your own. A family of your own. Much as I'd like to keep you by my side, I wouldn't be so selfish as to deny you that. And if you and Yaone would like to settle in together, make a home, maybe have children... You both have my blessings. I can't think of a better match."

"That's not a bad idea," Dokugakuji said, and Kougaiji let a bitter-sweet pang of sadness wash through his heart, and he knew he'd learn to be happy for them.

"Yeah, a marriage would stop the rumours spreading," Dokugakuji continued. "And the kids won't be bastards no matter whose they are."

"What?"

"You know she's in love with you, just like I am. And you can't marry her, either, right? She's not a noble. We know we can't have you to ourselves, not like that. You're our Prince – our King now. You belong to your kingdom. That's where your heart would always be, you care about all your people, and they need you. And we wouldn't have it any other way. We'll work it all out. Right, Yaone?"

She was walking back to them now, smiling, her black braids bouncing against her shoulders, her breasts swaying heavily, her beauty shining as always despite scratches on her face and blood clotting in her hair. Big ugly bruises were already darkening along her arms, but she walked lightly, unhindered yet by pain and fatigue. They were all still drunk on the high of the victory, unable to really feel how much they had paid for it.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I'm saying we'll work it all out."

"Oh, that. Of course we will. I think we've proven today that there isn't much we can't overcome."

She sat down at his left side, so he was between her and Dokugakuji, as usual. They had fallen into this formation by some unspoken agreement since the day Yaone joined them. At first Kougaiji thought it was because Dokugakuji and Yaone didn't like standing too close to each other, but he soon realised that in fact they liked to guard his both flanks in case of a sudden attack.

"Gojyo-san will be just fine," she said. "I think we can expect him to regain full agility to all his fingers. I understand it's very important to him, though I'm not sure if it's for sex or for gambling fraud."

"Both, I'd wager," Dokugakuji laughed. "Damn, just look at him. My little brother, grown into such a man. Look at him. You know, if there's one good thing I'd done with my life, it's this. Giving him this chance. He's amazing, isn't he?"

"Dokugakuji, much as I respect and admire Gojyo-san, I'm afraid you don't appreciate how many great things you've done in your life. We've just saved the world, for one," Yaone reminded him softly.

"I agree, however, Gojyo is quite something," Kougaiji said and brushed his hand over Dokugakuji's arm, mindful of the bandages. "In fact, every time I look at him he reminds me of someone truly wonderful. Someone strong and beautiful, with great power and unbreakable spirit, courageous and loving, wise and kind."

"Yeah? Who?"

Yaone barked an unladylike laugh and daintily covered her mouth with a blood-streaked hand.

"You, naturally, who else," said Kougaiji, rather annoyed. "You know, when you force me to spell it out, it cheapens the moment."

"With all due respect, Kougaiji-sama," Yaone said. "A moment like this one can't be ruined."

He nodded his assent, took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her bruised knuckles lightly. She blushed and looked away to hide a smile; Dokugakuji was grinning at him shamelessly, clearly pleased.

This moment couldn't be ruined; they'd earned this victory. They'd saved the world and reclaimed his kingdom, and now they would rebuild it. This would be their legacy, the mark they would leave on the world. They were together, and they were in love. This moment would be the best moment of their lives; he knew that.

"I never thought my life would lead me here," he said. "When I was a child in this castle, I could never imagine that one day my people would accept me as their king. That I'd fight a battle like this, with such allies by my side. I can still barely believe – it's like I'd been blessed by Heaven."

"I doubt divine intervention had anything to do with this," said Yaone. "The people follow Kougaiji-sama because they know you care about them, the way your father never had. And we weren't sent by Heaven, either. We're here because you found us and saved us. This victory is a testament to your strength. From the day I met you I knew this was bound to happen."

"Oh yeah?" teased Dokugakuji. "And who was sobbing on my shoulder yesterday, wishing for the cherry trees to bloom early this year, so you'd see the flowers once more if you're to die in this battle?"

"I wasn't sobbing!" she protested. "And I'm glad the flowers didn't come out yet. It'd be much better to have petal showers for Kougaiji-sama's coronation ceremony. "

"It doesn't matter," Kougaiji said. "They'll bloom when they'll bloom. It'll be worth the wait."

It was impossible to imagine a moment more perfect, but he'd been wrong before. If there was anything he had learned in his life, it was that the future was never certain, no matter how bleak or bright it seemed at any given time. All he could do about it was always do all he could; and, for all he knew, the best time of their lives could still be waiting to happen.

 


End file.
